


My Heart is Yours to Fill or Burst

by The_Unf0rgiven



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mickey Uses His Words, The Roof, not really cannon but sort of cannon?, season four compliant ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 15:12:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1392322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Unf0rgiven/pseuds/The_Unf0rgiven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been a while since Mickey had last visited the roof. If someone had asked him why, he'd have lied and said that it was because he was too busy with work, or he didn't want Svetlana to find out about it and give her one more place to follow him and cause an argument. Fuck, maybe he'd lie and say he didn't know what the fuck they were on about. In reality though, it was because of Ian.</p><p>Set after Ian returns in season 4.<br/>Basically I love the idea of the roof being a place where Ian and Mickey visited regularly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Heart is Yours to Fill or Burst

**Author's Note:**

> This was written really quickly in about half an hour while on a train. It hasn't been beta read, so if its crap, that's aaaallll on me.  
> Title is from 'Hands Down' by Dashboard Confessional and is verrrrry loosely based off that song, as well as 'Giants' by Bear Hands and 'The Harold Song' by Kesha. Listen to them all, so much gallavich feels. This story is kind of set around season 4, no specific episodes or spoilers are mentioned though, other than Mickey living with the Gallagher's. 
> 
> Apologies for any English terms seeping through, I've tried to remove anything too English, but there's probably some hiding. 
> 
> See end tags for any possible triggery things, there's nothing too serious or dark, but you should probably check, just to be sure.
> 
> I have tumblr, so feel free to follow me over there, it's @thatsacommonmisconception  
> :)

It had been a while since Mickey had last visited the roof. If someone had asked him why, he'd have lied and said that it was because he was too busy with work, or he didn't want Svetlana to find out about it and give her one more place to follow him and cause an argument. Fuck, maybe he'd lie and say he didn't know what the fuck they were on about. In reality though, it was because of Ian.

Lately, every fucking thing Mickey did, said or thought was because of Ian. He was basically living at the Gallagher's, spending all his nights at a fucking gay club, of all places, and pretty much avoiding his home. All for Ian. Because Mickey was determined to try harder this time. The roof though? The roof was a big no-fucking-go area. In theory, it was just the top floor of one of the many nondescript, abandoned warehouses in the shittiest part of the south side. It shouldn't have meant a thing to Mickey. It definitely shouldn't have been the location of some of his happiest memories, and some of his worst. He'd spent the months before and after his stints in Juvie there; Autumn, Winter and Spring all rolling into one.

He'd go to the roof whenever and for whatever he could. He'd go for target practice after work, to avoid Terry when he was being a shithead, to get drunk when he just couldn't take the Milkovich house anymore. Anything and everything. Mainly though, he'd go because he knew that when he got there, Ian Gallagher would be waiting for him on the shitty couches someone had left there, smoking cigarettes and listening to his iPod on the stereo they'd stolen. When Mickey would walk up the stairs, that sight never failed to make him happy, no matter how much those fucking gay feelings pissed him off. Directly outside the warehouse was also the place where Mickey had beat the shit out of Ian. That was one memory Mickey would do anything to erase; the look of pure despair and pain on Ian's face would be etched upon Mickey's brain for a life, a constant reminded of why he didn't want to fuck this up again.

Mickey hadn't been back to the roof since Ian had come back home. He'd went once while Ian was away. He'd been drunk and missing Ian, and he'd cried like a fucking girl. Now that Ian was home, he didn't want to go back, because the roof reminded him of _old_ Ian. See, Ian had come back different. Mickey couldn't explain it, one minute Ian was the happiest person in the world, constantly excited about everything, the next he'd be emotionless. Well, not really emotionless, more like he just couldn't give a shit about anything and anyone. Mickey didn't know what kind of drugs he was on, but he couldn't help but blame himself. He knew it was his fault and he fucking hated himself for it. He didn't want to taint his memories of them at the roof with these new ones. As gay as that is. He'd thought they were dysfunctional then, but shit, they were nothing compared to now.

He went back though. He knew he would. He'd had an argument with Ian over what the fuck was up with him, which ended in them screaming at each other and Ian storming out. He got out of the Gallagher house pretty soon after that, he couldn't handle the fucking looks Debbie and Carl-the-fucking-psychopath were giving him, which is how he ended up outside the warehouse. _Their_ warehouse. He'd just left the Gallagher house and that was where he'd ended up up. Typical, really. He walked up those familiar steps to the roof slowly; lost in the nostalgia of it all, only to be slapped around the face with the biggest feeling of déjà vu he'd ever experienced. Sat there on the ratty old couch, listening to music and smoking a cigarette, was Ian. As if the past year hadn't even happened. When Mickey focused, he noticed the major differences between Ian _now_ and Ian _then_. Before, Ian would be sat there, head bobbing along to the music with a huge grin on his face. Perpetually happy. This Ian looked broken. His eyes were shut and tear tracks streaked his face, knees brought up to his chin with arms wrapped tightly around them; holding himself together. Within a blink Mickey had crouched in front of Ian, one hand gripping his arm, the other stroking his face while his mouth shushed the tears away. It was more affectionate that Mickey had ever allowed himself to be, but at that moment he couldn't have given a shit. He eventually coaxed Ian into sitting up properly, releasing him for the second it took to sit next to the younger boy, before quickly wrapping his arms around him and pulling him onto his lap. They sat like that for what felt like an eternity to Mickey, until Ian eventually spoke.

"I went to the doctors this morning" Ian whispered, not lifting his head from the crook of Mickey's shoulder.

Mickey froze for a second, before continuing his rhythmic stroking of Ian's back, murmuring encouragements.

"I'm bipolar" Ian whimpered, before throwing his head back with harsh laughter. "Fucking Monica".

Confused, Mickey slowly lifted Ian's head until they made eye contact, silently questioning him.

Ian laughed again, that heartbreakingly emotionless laugh.

"It means that I'm -" His voice broke.

He laughed again.

"It means" he began, whispering, but more confident than before "that I'm fucked. My minds fucked up. I'm fucking crazy. I'll end up having kids and abandoning them, just like Monica. Shit, maybe I'll even try and kill myself on thanksgiving. I'll cut my wrists with a carving knife, that sounds fun doesn't it! I'm so fucked, fucking crazy, fucking-" his voice grew louder and more desperate, cutting himself off again with violent laughter.

"You should leave, Mick. Go back you wife and your fucking kid. Find someone else to fuck you on the side. Someone who's not fucking off it. Someone who doesn't dance for seedy old men for money. Someone who isn't gonna be on pills for the rest of their lives."

Ian began to cry again, his whole body shaking as he sobbed.

"I'm-I'm not good enough for you anyway. Fuck, maybe I should just pull a Monica. I'd be better off dead anyway, I'd-"

" **Don't. You. Fucking. Dare**." Mickey interrupted. "don't fucking **dare!** What the fuck gives you the right to say that?"

Mickey glared at Ian as he attempted to interrupt.

"Fuck you, you don't get to speak. This is my time. You're fucked?" Mickey laughed.

"We're from the south side you twat. We're all fucked. I don't give a shit what's wrong with you. I don't want to go back to Svetlana, I don't like her and I certainly don't love her. I fucked this up with you before, and I won't do it again. You're not fucking pushing me away. I **won't** let you!"

By the time Mickey had finished he was seething, staring straight at Ian, his eyebrows pulled together in a frown, hands holding Ian's arms tight. Ian averted his gaze from Mickey, staring down at where he was straddling Mickey. He hadn't even noticed they'd been sat like that.

"But Mick" he began timidly, "I'll be on pills forever. I don't even have health insurance to get the pills. I'm a fuck up for life"

Mickey grabbed Ian's face and pulled it towards his.

"Who cares if you ain't got heath insurance?" Mickey spoke fiercely "no one round here does. We'll get you whatever you need, the south side way. I'll rob every fucking chemist If I have to - hospitals too if you need it. I fucked up once and I'm not letting you go again. I won't make the same mistakes, understand? I fucking love you and I won't lose you again, I don't care what's wrong with you, okay?"

Mickey panicked when he saw that Ian was crying again, but relaxed when he saw the smile on his face. It wasn't same as the smile he used to have permanently etched on his face, that one that could rival the Cheshire cats's, but it was a start.

"I wont lose you, Firecrotch, not again" Mickey whispered, bringing their foreheads together.

"I love you" Ian murmured, bringing Mickey's lips towards his own and kissing him softly.

"I know."

"Oh my fucking god, you did **not** just Hans Solo me"

"Shut the fuck up" Mickey murmured, but there was no real heat behind it.

So, we've had our little gay moment now" He smirked, quirking up one eyebrow.

"Are you gonna get on me or what?"

It was just like it used to be, back when the only problem they had was avoiding getting caught. Ian grinned, gripping the back of Mickey's head more firmly, bringing him in for a passionate kiss, tongues sliding against each other in the most familiar way.

They both knew things weren't perfect. They were far from it. But they knew that no matter what they had to face, they'd face it together.

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warnings:
> 
> Mental health discussion, includes some stigma (I know the show hasn't addressed Ian's problems yet, but as someone studying psychiatry, I'd more than likely diagnose him with bipolarity).  
> Mentions of suicidal thoughts.
> 
> I think that's it, but if there's something I haven't addressed here and you come across it, I'm so sorry!


End file.
